Witness

Livingston Hill Grace

Description

A talented and widely admired college student, Paul Courtland, is witness to an unspeakable tragedy on campus and finds himself shaken to the core. In the aftermath of the incident, Paul retreats into his religious faith, and for a time is unable to deal with the outside world. Can the promise of romance bring him around?

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776672479
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE WITNESS
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GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL
 
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The Witness First published in 1917 Epub ISBN 978-1-77667-247-9 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77667-248-6 © 2015 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII Chapter XIX Chapter XX Chapter XXI Chapter XXII Chapter XXIII Chapter XXIV Chapter XXV Chapter XXVI Chapter XXVII Chapter XXVIII Chapter XXIX Chapter XXX Chapter XXXI Chapter XXXII Chapter XXXIII Chapter XXXIV Chapter XXXV Chapter XXXVI
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TO MY MOTHER MARCIA MACDONALD LIVINGSTON
WHOSE HELPFUL CRITICISM AND LOVING ENCOURAGEMENT HAVE BEEN WITH ME THROUGH THE YEARS
"He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself." —I JOHN 5:10
Chapter I
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Like a sudden cloudburst the dormitory had gone into a frenzy of sound.Doors slammed, feet trampled, hoarse voices reverberated, heavy bodiesflung themselves along the corridor, the very electrics trembled withthe cataclysm. One moment all was quiet with a contentedafter-dinner-peace-before-study hours; the next it was as if all theforces of the earth had broken forth.
Paul Courtland stepped to his door and threw it back.
"Come on, Court, see the fun!" called the football half-back, who wasslopping along with two dripping fire-buckets of water.
"What's doing?"
"Swearing-match! Going to make Little Stevie cuss! Better get in on it.Some fight! Tennelly sent 'Whisk' for a whole basket of superannuatedcackle-berries"—he motioned back to a freshman bearing a basket ofancient eggs—"we're going to blindfold Steve and put oysters down hisback, and then finish up with the fire-hose. Oh, the seven plagues ofEgypt aren't in it with what we're going to do; and when we get done ifLittle Stevie don't let out a string of good, honest cuss-words like aman then I'll eat my hat. Little Stevie's got good stuff in him if itcan only be brought out. We're a-going to bring it out. Then we're goingto celebrate by taking him over to the theater and making him see 'TheScarlet Woman.' It'll be a little old miracle, all right, if he has anyof his whining Puritanical ideas left in him after we get through withhim. Come on! Get on the job!"
Drifting along with the surging tide of students, Courtland sauntereddown the corridor to the door at the extreme end where roomed thevictim.
He rather liked Stephen Marshall. There was good stuff in him; all thefellows recognized that. Only he was woefully unsophisticated,abnormally innocent, frankly religious, and a little too openly white inhis life. It seemed a rebuke to the other fellows, unconscious though itmight be. He felt with the rest that the fellow needed a lesson.Especially since the bald way in which he had dared to stand up for theold-fashioned view of miracles in biblical-lit. class that morning. Ofcourse an ignorance like that wouldn't go down, and it was best heshould learn it at once and get to be a good fellow without loss oftime. A little gentle rubbing off of the "mamma's-good-little-boy"veneering would do him good. He wasn't sure but with such a courseMarshall might even be eligible for the frat. that year. He saunteredalong with his hands in his pockets; a handsome, capable, powerfulfigure; not taking any part in the preparations, but mildly interestedin the plans. His presence lent enthusiasm to the gathering. He was highin authority. A star athlete, an A student, president of his fraternity,having made the Phi Beta Kappa in his junior year, and now in his senioryear being chairman of the student exec. There would be no trouble withthe authorities of the college if Court was along to give countenance.
Courtland stood opposite the end door when it was unceremoniously thrustopen and the hilarious mob rushed in. From his position with his backagainst the wall he could see Stephen lift his fine head from his bookand rise to greet them. There was surprise and a smile of welcome on hisface. Courtland thought it almost a pity to reward such open-heartednessas they were about to do; but such things were necessary in the makingof men. He watched developments with interest.
A couple of belated participants in the fray arrived breathlessly,shedding their mackinaws as they ran, and casting them down atCourtland's feet.
"Look after those, will you, Court? We've got to get in on this,"shouted one as he thrust a noisy bit of flannel head-gear at Courtland.
Courtland gave the garments a kick behind him and stood watching.
There was a moment's tense silence while they told the victim what theyhad come for, and while the light of welcome in Stephen Marshall's eyesmelted and changed into lightning. A dart of it went with a searchinggleam out into the hall, and seemed to recognize Courtland as he stoodidly smiling, watching the proceedings. Then the lightning was withheldin the gray eyes, and Marshall seemed to conclude that, after all, theaffair must be a huge kind of joke, seeing Courtland was out there.Courtland had been friendly. He must not let his temper rise. The kindlylight came into the eyes again, and for an instant Marshall almostdisarmed the boldest of them with his brilliant smile. He would be gameas far as he understood. That was plain. It was equally plain that hedid not understand yet what was expected of him.
Pat McCluny, thick of neck, brutal of jaw, low-browed, red of face,blunt of speech, the finest, most unmerciful tackler on the footballteam, stepped up to Stephen and said a few words in a low tone.Courtland could not hear what they were save that they ended with anoath, the choicest of Pat Cluny's choice collection.
Instantly Stephen Marshall drew himself back, and up to his greatheight, lightning and thunder-clouds in his gray eyes, his powerful armsfolded, his fine head crowned with its wealth of beautiful gold hairthrown a trifle back and up, his lips shut in a thin, firm line, hiswhole attitude that of the fighter; but he did not speak. He only lookedfrom one to another of the wild young mob, searching for a friend; and,finding none, he stood firm, defying them all. There was somethingsplendid in his bearing that sent a thrill of admiration downCourtland's spine as he watched, his habitual half-cynical smile ofamusement still lying unconsciously about his lips, while a new respectfor the country student was being born in his heart.
Pat, with a half-lowering of his bullet head, and a twisting of his uglyjaw, came a step nearer and spoke again, a low word with a rumble likethe menace of a bull or a storm about to break.
With a sudden unexpected movement Stephen's arm shot forth and struckthe fellow in the jaw, reeling him half across the room into the crowd.
With a snarl like a stung animal Pat recovered himself and rushed atStephen, hurling himself with a stream of oaths, and calling curses downupon himself if he did not make Stephen utter worse before he was donewith him. Pat was the "man" who was in college for football. It took theunited efforts of his classmates, his frat., and the faculty to keep hisstudies within decent hailing distance of eligibility for playing. Hecame from a race of bullies whose culture was all in their fists.
Pat went straight for the throat of his victim. His fighting blood wasup and he was mad clear down to the bone. Nobody could give him a blowlike that in the presence of others and not suffer for it. What hadstarted as a joke had now become real with Pat; and the frenzy of hisown madness quickly spread to those daring spirits who were about himand who disliked Stephen for his strength of character.
They clinched, and Stephen, fresh from his father's remote Western farm,matched his mighty, untaught strength against the trained bully of acity street.
For a moment there was dead silence while the crowd in breathlessastonishment watched and held in check their own eagerness. Then the mobspirit broke forth as some one called out:
"Pray for a miracle, Stevie! Pray for a miracle! You'll need it, oldboy!"
The mad spirit which had incited them to the reckless fray broke forthanew and a medley of shouts arose.
"Jump in, boys! Now's the time!"
"Give him a cowardly egg or two—the kind that hits and runs!"
"Teach him that we will be obeyed!"
The latter came as a sort of chant, and was reiterated at intervalsthrough the pandemonium of sound.
The fight raged on for minutes more, and still Stephen stood with hisback against the wall, fighting, gasping, struggling, but bravely facingthem all; a disheveled object with rotten eggs streaming from his faceand hair, his clothes plastered with offensive yolks. Pat had him by thethroat, but still he stood and fought as best he could.
Some one seized the bucket of water and deluged both. Some one elseshouted, "Get the hose!" and more fellows tore off their coats and threwthem down at Courtland's feet; some one tore Pat away, and the greatfire-hose was turned upon the victim.
Gasping at last, and all but unconscious, he was set upon his feet, andharried back to life again. Over-powered by numbers, he could donothing, and the petty torments that were applied amid a round ofringing laughter seemed unlimited; but still he stood, a man among them,his lips closed, a firm set about his jaw that showed their labor was invain so far as making him obey their command was concerned. Not